But sometimes he just wanted to be held
by Iwasallbymyself
Summary: "Deep inside he knew that no one could ever love him because he didn t deserve to be loved." No zombies.


_But sometimes he just wanted to be held_

_He screamed. He cried. He begged. He did all those things but it didn´t matter, he was aware of that, he knew the pain wouldn´t stop. It wouldn´t go away and neither would his daddy. The leather belt struck his pale frame again and a small whimper escaped his trembling lips. The skin cracked and dark blood started to slowly stream down on the floor. Tears, snot and blood covered his naked body and he felt like a little child, like a fucking baby. He hated it. In his head he could hear his older brother, Merle, laughing at him and tell him to take his beating like a man. But he wasn´t a man, not like his pa or Merle, he was just a scared little boy who screamed and bled. _

_At night he longed for someone to hold him and tell him that everything would be all right. He wanted to be loved. A fools dream for sure. Deep inside he knew that no one could ever love him because he didn´t deserve to be loved. Daddy had told him that, so many times. He was too ugly to be loved. He was useless and a dirty piece of shit who would be missed by no one. Of course Merle loved him, in his own special way, but Merle showed his love with nasty words and punches. He loved his big brother, his hero, but sometimes he just wanted to be held. _

He stands in front of the mirror, only wearing his boxers, and stares at his scrawny, slightly awkward, body and sneers. The tears are rolling down his cheeks and one of his fingers is tracing one of the deep, red scars that are jagged across his hollow chest. Every time he looks at one of his many scars it´s like looking at a memory. A memory you can feel with every damn breath.

"You ugly fuck." He murmurs coldly to himself.

The bedroom door opens and he quickly turns his gaze from the mirror and tries to dry his unmanly tears with the back of his hand. Merle slams the door shut and walks right past him. With a sigh his older brother collapse on one of the beds and gives him a questioningly look. He ignores it. It so obvious that Merle is high, because on his face there is a big, shiny smile and his eyes are black and big.

"What´s the matter with you, baby brother? Cum in your undies again?" Merle laughs mockingly and sticks a cigarette in his mouth.

"Fuck you." He mumbles before he turns his back at both Merle and the mirror. "Where´s pa?"

Merle lights his ciggy and takes a drag. "Don´t know. Don´t care." He takes another drag and blows the smoke at his direction. "If we´re lucky his dead."

"Yeah, we could always hope." He snorts and grabs his shirt of the floor.

Even though Merle is fully aware how his body looks like and what their daddy does to him he is still not comfortable to be standing half naked and exposing his scars and bruises. He knows that Merle have a similar collection of scars but that doesn't help. Merle is not a victim. Merle is not scared. Merle is not weak. He wished he could be as strong as his big brother, be as cold.

The thought of someone seeing his scars is terrifying but it is nothing compared to the thought of being touched. No one is ever going to see his scars, his secrets and his ugliness. No one deserves to see or touch such a disgusting person like himself. His big brother is not afraid to be touched, every other night there is a new girl under him, moaning his name and calling out to God. It´s not that he wants to have a girl moaning his name, like Merle does, he just wants to be held.

"What the fuck, little brother?" Exclaim Merle suddenly with a frown. "Why are you crying like a big pussy, boy?"

He haven´t even notices the tears. He only notices the pain in his chest and the trembling in his body. The long, brown hair falls in his eyes and he wish he could disappear. Forever. He prepares for the punches and the mocking but he still can´t stop crying, the tears won´t stop coming. Merle stands up from the bed and gives him a dark glare. The sobs are becoming louder and his eyes drops to the floor, unable to look at his hero.

"I don´t want to be ugly, Merle." His voice is nothing more than a trembling whisper.

Merle laughs, but it´s not his usuallaughter. It´s a laugh filled with sympathy and understanding, he sure did like this laugh more than the cold and sneering laugh he usually heard from Merle.

"You´re not ugly, baby brother." Merle says and ruffles his brother´s hair like he always does. "Those scars show that you´re strong, that you survived this hell hole. That our dear daddy couldn´t… _can´t_ break you."

"Yeah?" He asks shyly and steals a glance from his brother.

"Yeah, Daryl, you´re a tough motherfucker." Merle laughs and gives him a hard pat on the shoulder. "Well not right now. Now you´re just being a little bitch."

A small smile grows on his lips and he can´t help but let out a light chuckle. But the newfound joy is short-lived; a new wave of sadness hit him. The blue eyes fall to the floor once again and it feels like his body is going to make them company. The room starts spinning and he suddenly feels how Merle is grabbing him with his steady hands. His older brother pulls him in to a hug, the first one in many years and for the first time in many years he feels safe.

"I hate this, I hate him." He sobs and grabbing on to his big brother like he´s drowning. "I don´t want to be ugly anymore."

Maybe he is drowning, it sure feels like it. Drowning in he's own despair.

"Me neither, baby brother, me neither."


End file.
